I humor myself by saying I am hunted by my thoughts of you, but really, I’m just haunted with an infernal dread…it will always be like this. I am never moving on.


Becoming A Nun

I dreamed I was taking my vows. You wanted to be there for me. After, you sat in front of me sharing your own good news. You were getting married. Wasn’t I happy for you? I wanted to scream. I had strangely become a nun, and you were breaking my heart all over again.

Why did you write to me? Why was I so stupid as to wish you a happy birthday? I’m always giving you an opening. When will I ever stop?


What do they mean? You, standing over me, gloating, angry, fierce, a monster. I was terrified and woke up relieved. You are no longer in my life. So why would I dream? Why would I want to wake up and find you next to me, sleeping? Dreams, useless, dreams. You are still in my useless dreams.

Door Knob

He was so charming. He could charm the shine off a doorknob, and the doorknob would still turn and never know it was nothing more than a way to get out the door.


A year…

How can you still be heartbroken after a year?

Flying Down

You took me flying down that day.

Do you remember?

I held tight to your waist;

My cheek pressed to your back.

The wind tugged my hair, wild and restless, childlike.

I held all the strength and warmth

that I could,

Pondering distance and direction.

A heartbeat strong and sincere.

Almaty mountains in the South,

but always mapped as if North.

One must know the city.

We were heading down

an Almaty mountain.


knowing no harm would come.

We flew–

The wheels turning, burning

Nothing held us back

Mountains tore past

Trees waved, snow laid ageing on the ground

The rush of wind froze my nose

We were flying.

Pavement churning speed demons on a bike

People in cars waved and smiled admiring

Lovers, doing crazy lovers’ things that lovers do

How fast?

Too fast, oh let’s go faster the heart beats

in its own song.

And we headed, safely, surely, down the mountainside

In the moment alive

No threat, no car, no wreck, no danger

could swerve us.

Ha, a bump in the road?

Determination held tight

in love with you

A compass moored into place

A beacon followed, not mountains misplaced

Oh,the grace of your muscles

A torn knee that day

Injured and ruined a future race

But we were heading down

an Almaty mountain,


The White Death

You worried for my health as you gave me facts and details you had learned from the Internet about ‘the white death’. And I only half listened, because something will kill us after all. It was not good enough…that I cut back on the amount of sugar I ate. Oh no, and after a time, you declared that you learned to not care. I could kill myself if that’s what I wanted. You shamed and snarled–and smoked cigarettes, calmly blowing the smoke out as you watched the world from your window. You liked them. You liked the way they gave you a slight buzz and the way you could roll the cigarettes between your lips. It wasn’t often you smoked, but smoked you did. Hypocrite! It all makes no sense to me now. Why I let you bully me! Did it make you feel taller, smarter, better? Like those cigarettes rolling between your lips?


He Pissed like a Horse

A memory of early on

She was nervous. He was coming over soon and the thought of it made her heart pound a little too much. After all, she was old enough to be his mother. Yuck!

But did it matter? He went to the bathroom, left the door open. Oh goodness, he pissed like a horse. And thoughts bigger than the sky ran through her head. Really? Could it be true? If he pissed like a horse, well….

Just not yet, but now she knew, and she smiled, her heart pounding a little too much.

I still think of you.

I hope where you are; you will meet someone. Then tonight, I think how it will be if you do. I almost cried. I didn’t. I just wanted to. If you love someone else, you won’t love me. I still for a moment wanted you to love me.

I said no more…

I said no more…I simply can’t. I can’t keep holding my breath while saying this pain isn’t killing me.

So I told you not to write, and I wouldn’t write you.

Then I opened up Facebook to public. You could look.

You with your anxiety, and I knowing you would be lonely for a while,

and maybe sad and lonely for a time.

You could see how I was doing in the little lies I would tell,

so no one would worry about me.

And we did not communicate.

Then you sent me a forwarded email from a friend. What pearl of wisdom was I supposed to gain from this? (eye roll) I wrote you back.

Then we started texting that led to chatting that moved on to talking.

Marry our common friend you said. The two of you together will be great, you said.

Then, no!

let’s become Muslim or Mormon, and I’ll marry you instead. Give me cake and let me eat it too.

Have you lost your mind? You searched online. You looked at websites where couples were looking for second wives. I laughed because surely you were joking. Then I realized that for a moment–you weren’t joking. It felt scary, and weird.

It took a few hours and you called again to say I deserved better.

I KNOW I deserve better.

I know it the way birds know the way to migrate, but somehow I don’t believe it.

I want. I long. I pant. I breath. I inhale. You. From thousands of miles distant.

(whispers**the wind doesn’t even have to blow my way**)

I invited myself to where you are. You were so excited and writing such horny texts. I felt uncomfortable. I told myself to play. Then I couldn’t. It felt like a betrayal against my OWN better self.

Have you slept with someone I asked? Since I’ve been away. Since we broke apart.

And you had.

Of course.

I cried and cried and cried, not knowing what I was crying for. Now, I don’t know if I care.

You keep calling because we HAVE TO STAY friends. You’re not my dog; you’re not my problem.

But if I cut you carefully, fully, out of my life, who will you have? Your parents, some friends, and then???? **Open parenthesis “You’re not my dog; you’re not my problem”**Close parenthesis.

You say you could cut me out of your life, but I won’t say the word. Why do I have to say the word? Even you know you’ve hurt me enough.

Stupidly, I keep putting myself in the line of your fire. How that fire burns.

You video call while lying in your bed,

and you look so handsome,

so untouchably sexy,

so far away. I, in Saudi Arabia,

and you, in Kazakhstan.

I will be there soon. I will stay with friends,

and maybe squeeze in a few hours to see you.

I’m keeping my distance.

I won’t be another woman, any other woman, for you to have. You had her already, and she…didn’t…please…you.

You want to be free of me, but you want me to be…

in some form, by your side.

When will I be sick enough of this?

When will I divide and conquer my very soul, that sometimes feels like you are trying to crush.


What punishment, oh God, is this? Do You laugh at Your humans squirming upon the Earth? Or do You sadly shake Your head because You designed us for so much better? And we fail, even as the tide of time moves slowly to and fro, not stopping for any sound, nor the fluttering of any heart.

My heart.

I will grow old without you.

I know.

I always knew. You at 27 now, and I at 47 now.

You still have this ability to make me laugh.

For you, I want to be something so much better, a human as perfect as God designed,

you would truly love me then. A little fool’s dream, and a prisoner’s sentence to die.

What is possible and what is impossible can never be the same. It is perhaps possible I will love  you until the day that I die.

Equally true, is that, it is perhaps impossible you will ever love me enough…as I am.